


Dancing, Dying (What a Lovely Way to Burn)

by AnabelleRosenai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, M/M, Merry Christmas, Obsession, Pining, Voldemort is not a tyrant, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:55:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnabelleRosenai/pseuds/AnabelleRosenai
Summary: Harry can't help but worship his saviour.(This is a world where the Dark Lord was resurrected a year after his defeat at the hands of an infant and takes back what was meant to be his.)





	Dancing, Dying (What a Lovely Way to Burn)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cal_Kemist2121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cal_Kemist2121/gifts).



Harry Potter barely remembers his childhood, only bits and pieces of it. He remembers the dark cupboard, remembers the weariness that plagued each and every day. _He doesn't remember the unconsoled tears, doesn't remember how he choked on his cries time and again and again and again, trying to be silent and **good**_  
He was eight and still so naive and full of hope when a cloaked figure had blasted down his cupboard door. That figure held out their hand and told him that he was a wizard, not a freak, and that he would never have to see his family again. Harry Potter takes it, and they vanish into the night.  
(His hand doesn't burn and His hand doesn't crumble to ashes, for his blood has already been taken and used along with bone and flesh.)

He is brought into a world where he is told that anything is possible, anything was attainable, only if he were to be good and serve under the Dark Lord. He promises and thinks, _anything to never go back to the Dursleys, anything to have a loving family, anything to thank his Saviour._  
He swears Vows and sheds blood writing his name over and over on thick, smooth paper that’s not paper at all until his hand is a bloodied mess. But the cloaked figure was kind and healed it, rubbing ointment into the skin until nothing was left but thin, light scars that were barely noticeable at all.  
(Though young, that moment was the start of his obsession. Though no matter how strong it grows, he will never notice the satisfaction in his Saviour’s eyes, _never notice that he was never given a chance to read what he was signing away.)_

The Wizarding World is magnificent, he finds. He is given to a family that, though not warm, does not mistreat him. He is fed, taught, given a room of his own, and feels that he is finally content. (He does not know of matters beyond the great walls of the manor, nor does he learn to care for them.)  
He is told of his past, how his parents had injured the Dark Lord and were thus killed for it, how gracious He was to bring him back to his rightful place. He is told that his Saviour is the Dark Lord, and grows up hearing tales of his greatness, finding himself growing enamoured with him.  
_(We all have pedestals meant for the ones most precious to us. What does it say when his is for a man that he has known for barely a fortnight? That his is for a man who has shown him more kindness than anyone else had ever.)_

He learns, he grows, he _plots._

He enters Hogwarts with the determination to shine and earn the Dark Lord's favour, the knowledge and acceptance of what he will have to do, and the Hat shouts “Slytherin!”  
_(Their eyes meet, and it was then the Dark Lord **knew**.)_

Turning of age, he works hard and tirelessly for the Dark Lord's favour. Climbing ranks, dirtying his hands, it is all for his Saviour, and perhaps one day he will finally be deemed worth His notice.  
(He is granted a place in the Inner Circle young, and his soul burns brighter, unaware that His attention has already been caught.)

He works at the side of his Saviour, and it is _**glorious.**_ The world outside them burns and _burns_ , as does his soul. Even brighter, even hotter. 

One night, after a brilliant victory in the Dark Lord's name, he is called to His side to be granted a boon. _Anything his heart desires_ , he is told, and all his heart has ever desired is _**Him**_.  
The Dark Lord gives him the honour of warming his bed that night. He is taken apart over and over again until the world was blurring around the edges, until his mind was hazy with lust and want, until he was begging desperately for it. Then _he_ is taken over and over again until he screams when he is finally allowed his release.  
And that is when he believes he is in love, and that he, too, is loved in return. His Saviour- Master rests next to him, back to him, as an act of faith. And as he stays up to watch his Master, he burns even brighter with desire and longs for more.  
_(He will never remember the Vows he swore and the contracts he signed. He will never notice that the Dark Lord's eyes are filled with, not love, but lust and obsession. For the Dark Lord knows that the soul will always yearn to be together, and has accepted that.) ___

__

___**He wanted love so badly, had done without it for so long, that he couldn't tell it wasn't love. Not even after his own heart had burnt beneath his hands. Not even after when his own mind followed suit.** _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Madi, sorry if this isn't what you expected. Especially sorry for my writing style. I hope this isn't too angsty?


End file.
